These Flightless Wings
by Technow
Summary: The respective stories of Bash, Jade and Flashwing. Not in that order. Spin-off from 'The Dragon Chronicles'. Sister story to 'A Technical Tail'. Sorry for disregarding the poll!
1. The Rhyme of Prophecy

Ch. 1: The Rhyme of Prophecy

"Three dragons, three stories, one tale to tell.  
One destiny, intertwined, that will end well.  
The dragon of light, golden of the sun,  
The dragon of magic, with space and time,  
And the phoenix dragon, the flame of light itself.  
One of the past, one of the present, one of the future.  
All shall come together to combat the greatest threat in existence,"

It was the ancient prophecy of the three dragons. The Golden Dragon of the Sun, the Portal Master Dragon, and the reborn Sol, in the form of another phoenix-dragon hybrid.

And it worked surprisingly well as a lullaby, which is what it was currently being used for.

It was the only memory Bash had of his mother, his eyes being closed as a young dragon as she sang the prophecy of the three dragons. The two-year-old dragonet had woken up the next morning, alone in the cave. He never did find out what happened to her.

Bash had woken up that morning, asked "Mama?" and, when no response was forthcoming, he had struggled out of bed on his little stumpy legs, and wandered around the cave, thinking that perhaps she was hiding that little bit of rock with his favourite chew toy on it, (it was his favourite because it was the only one that could hold up to his powerful jaws) or perhaps the bones of the sheep they had eaten together for dinner last night, or maybe even that little pebble near her bed.

He was two. The dragonet didn't really use logic.

But he had finally checked every corner of the cave, and nothing. His mother was gone.

And yet Bash still thought this was all some kind of game, that his mother was hiding somewhere and waiting for the right moment to leap out and surprise him. "Mommy, come out! I don't like this game!" the young dragonet whined.

There was no response.

Bash ran back to his bed and climbed under the giant leaf that served as a blanket for him, and bawled his eyes out for several hours.

But eventually, he could cry no more. And that was when he heard the voices outside.

**Okay, so technically the Bash, Jade and Flashwing thing came second on the poll, and the Pop Fizz and Wrecking Ball thing was first, but I only actually put that one in because I thought I needed more options and I honestly didn't think anyone would actually go for it. Plus I just really wanted to write this. And I also know I said I wouldn't start this until I finish 'A Technical Tail', but I'm getting writer's block for all three of my other fictions, so I figured, what the heck?**

**So, 'These Flightless Wings' is going to be split into three parts; Bash's history, the events surrounding him meeting Flashwing, and the entire story with Jade. Which is for me to know and you to find out.**

**"You have no idea what to do, do you?"**

**I do so, Riley. She's going to - wait, you're trying to get me to give away spoilers again, aren't you? So you can censor them and get a bonus in your next pay-cheque.**

**"When are you going to write a spin-off about me and Zap?"**

**When Valhalla becomes a war zone. As in, not until late (CENSORED FOR SPOILERS). Oh. Well played.**

**Anyway, like with the first chapter of 'A Technical Tail', sorry about the overall shortness of this chapter, but I've developed a bad habit of making the first chapter of each new fiction really short. Go figure, and cross your fingers that I'll be able to get the rest of the chapters of this fiction to my normal two to three thousand words. Peace!**


	2. Abandonment Issues

Ch. 2: Abandonment Issues

"You sure about this?" A disembodied voice was caught on the draft blowing through the cave.

"Sure I'm sure. It's a baby dragon alone in its cave. It's like taking candy from a candy store - staffed completely by babies," a second voice came from outside the cave.

"Fletcher, that is not going to catch on, no matter how many times you say it," The first voice was back. "And what if the mother comes back?"

"That great green lug? Moss-tar? Mossssssessssstar? You saw what Jecovo did to her. There's more chance of me pronouncing her name correctly than of her showing up to defend poor widdle baebei Bash," the second voice, now identifiable as Fletcher, scoffed, speaking the last four words in a deliberately pathetic sing-song voice, before breaking into child-like giggles.

The first voice sighed. "Oh, the things I do for these lunatics," he muttered. "Come on, Fletcher, let's just grab the baby dragon, get it back to Jecovo and try not to think about what he'll do to it,"

Throughout all this, Bash, having no idea what they were talking about, hid under the blanket-like leaf and tried to make himself invisible. It was completely ineffectual, as the two speakers, who were now revealed to be elves, probably Drow, crept into the cave and instantly spotted the quivering baby dragonet beneath the covers.

The two elves bundled the young dragonet into a large leather sack. But even as a dragonet, Bash was too heavy for the Drow named Fletcher to carry over his shoulder, so he was dragged along the ground like a sled. Actually the other Drow probably could have carried him on his back, but Fletcher was weak and scrawny, yet he refused his partner's offers of assistance. The result: Bash got bumped around like a pile of rocks.

Eventually, they arrived at what seemed to be an airship or balloon of some kind, because Bash felt that Fletcher had stopped dragging him, yet he sensed that they were still moving, because he could hear the wind rushing by.

Over the course of a flight that Bash had no idea how long it took, but felt like several hours, he overheard snippets from the two Drow who had captured him, and a third one who he could only assume had stayed on the ship for some reason.

Bash had been a smart baby, due in no small part to his mother's attentive teachings, but he had no idea what the elves were talking about, mainly because they were using long words and Bash's vocabulary was still small. He would have cried, but he had run out of tears. So he just snivelled and listened, hoping to catch the soothing, comforting, sweet sound of his mother's voice.

Instead, the young rock dragonet only heard snippets of the Drow's conversations that he couldn't make multi-horned head or spiky, clubbed tail of. He did manage to work out that the other elf who had kidnapped him was named Ormond, and the pilot was Whistler. Who knew why?

". . . . . him on Jecovo's wish list and not me," Ormond sighed relievedly. "Remind me to quit at the first possible opportunity. I'm not cut out for this,"

"Aww, big strong Ormond suddenly grew a conscience?" Fletcher mockingly crooned. "What are you going to do, get that great clunky mallet of yours, call yourself Stronghammer and join the Skylanders? Besides, you know what Jecovo will do to you if you try to leave. Remember what happened to Barney?"

There were general murmurs of agreement from Ormond and Whistler.

"Yeah, why does he even want a baby Earth dragon?" Whistler wondered out loud.  
"Same reason he wanted that baby sea serpent and the phoenix hatchling, doofus. He's obsessed with creating multi-elemental hybrid beings of opposite elements," Ormond told the other Drow, using a patronising tone of voice.

"But if that's the case, where's Jecovo gonna get an Air Element baby? Those mother griffins sure ain't gonna give him an egg," Fletcher questioned.

"He mentioned to me that he has a project in the works. Something he calls his 'Hydragon', whatever that is," Whistler explained. "Whatever monstrosity he's cooked up now, odds are it'll be able to persuade those griffin mummies to part with an egg or two. But that's not what he wants that little Earth dragon for. When he heard about a wingless dragon, he instantly figured it was the 'perfect missing genetic link between the elfin races of Skylands and the dragonoid races', or something like that," he continued.

"I have no idea what that is, but it sounds ominous. What does he even want to achieve? Just because he can invent technology to mess around with people's bodies, or whatever he called it, doesn't mean people will be queuing up to pay him to do that," Fletcher commented.

They all broke into silence after that.

Then, later, Bash heard them talking, with a fourth voice among them. But the voice sounded tinny and robotic, almost as if they were talking to a robot. What Bash had no way of knowing was that they were actually using a techno-magical Arkeyan audio and video feed to communicate with Jecovo himself, far away.

"Did you get it?" Jecovo's voice, despite the toneless robotic monotone the feed but it in, still managed to sound threatening.

"Don't worry, sir, it's right here," Ormond seemed placating, almost pleading. It would have been evident to anyone mature that he was very, very afraid of Jecovo. Bash, however, was too scared to worry about anything beyond himself and his need for a maternal figure.

"Show me," Jecovo commanded. Fletcher grabbed hold of the sack Bash had spent the last few hours in, dragged it over to where everyone else was, and tore the seam open, exposing baby Bash for all to see.

Jecovo smiled. "Excellent. I see it does not have wings, just as you described. Well done for that, wingless dragons are rare indeed. I shall see the three of you get a reward. Even so, I wonder if it is possible for it to gain wings?"

Bash knew he had been born without wings, but he had never really given much thought to the matter before now. He wondered why the scary robot man cared if he had wings. His mummy had taught him that it didn't matter if you had wings or not, as long as you were a good person.

"I want mummy!" Bash suddenly bawled, collapsing onto the ground.

Jecovo shook his on-screen head. "Pathetic,"

"It's, er, two years old, sir," Whistler pointed out.

"Regardless of that fact, the last dragon I captured was two, and it didn't make a big fuss. Though I suppose there could be a difference due to gender, that one was female, and not to mention element, the one I refer to was a Life element. Hmm, maybe we should put them in the same pen. I could study their reactions - at different stages. It could give me valuable insight into the reaction I can expect from the masses,"

"I want my mummy!" Bash wailed once more.

"Very well then. Hurry here, so that it can see it's precious mummy," Jecovo smiled. All three of the Drow instantly saluted seconds before the screen went blank.

**So, the plot thickens, with a couple of thick henchmen. And yes, Jecovo is the main bad guy throughout 'These Flightless Wings'. I should probably explain a couple of things about now. This part, when Bash is a baby, is set twenty years before the first part of The Dragon Chronicles. When this part is over, it jumps to a point four years before, showing the events surrounding Flashwing's appearance, before jumping another two and a half years forward to when Jade shows up, and the final showdown with Jecovo. How were Flashwing and Jade found two and a half years apart?**

**"It's simple enough. Flashwing is actually some kind of (CENSORED FOR SPOILERS), resulting in Jade's recruitment,"**

**You know that you don't get a bonus if you censor your own spoilers, right?**

**"Aww, crag. Can I apply for a raise, then?"**

**You've had this job for a week and a half.**

**"So, that's a maybe?"**

**We'll discuss it later. Peace!**


	3. A Kick To The Ballas

Ch. 3: A Kick to the Ballas

Bash was bundled back into the sack, fresh tears bursting from his red, iris-less eyes. The three Drow continued the flight for several hours, before docking at what had to be Jecovo's home island.

One of the Drow - who was much more competent at the job, so wouldn't have been Fletcher - picked up the sack and, slinging it over his back, carried Bash for about twenty minutes. "Down the hatch," Ormond chuckled, tipping Bash's battered dragonet form out from the sack and into something that appeared reminiscent of a laundry chute.

Following his instincts, Bash rolled himself into a wheel and bounced down the chute like a pinball. Little did he know it was the same position he would someday assume in order to roll through battle as a Skylander.

Finally, he reached the end of the metal chute and crashed into the ground. The impact was so hard that his spiky body left a dent in the hard plastic floor.

It was a little known fact that plastic was the only substance in existence that didn't have an allegiance to any element. Thus, it was the best substance for a multi-purpose prison cell; no being could draw power from it. Rock and stone were malleable to Earth beings, wood could be used by Life elements and get burnt away by Fire elements, metal had a great affinity to Tech, and for some reason plastic had a power-draining effect on Magic. Thus, only thick plastic was immune to all elements' abilities.

After a couple of seconds, during which he registered that he had stopped, he unfurled his body and lay whining on the floor. With a simple roll, he twisted his body back onto his chest, and stood up. Then he noticed another dragon curled up in the corner, quivering with fear. This one looked like it was about a year older than him, and for some reason she didn't have a coat of dragonet-scales.

Dragons were like snakes in that they shed their skin, but not in the same way. Dragons only shed their scales once, at around the age of five. You see, when dragons are born in Skylands, they are usually born with an extra layer of scales in shades of grey and black. This extra coat is shed around the time of the dragonet's fifth birthday, revealing the scale colours they will have all their life. This extra coat of scales is generally known as a dragon's dragonet-scales, and it wasn't uncommon for a dragon to keep his or her dragonet-scales all their life.

The only exceptions to this are scale-less hybrid dragons and 'special breed dragons'. Special breed dragons were, to put it bluntly, natural mutations. Say, dragons without wings, like Bash, or dragons with extra limbs, like Duskwort, or dragons that were unusual in other ways, like Drobot.

This particular female dragonet had bright green scales, with an underbelly and wing membranes that were more of a moss green. There was a bright sunflower-yellow dermal plating on her tail, and she had a couple of little matching yellow horn nubs. Bash tentatively approached the other dragonet. "What wrong?"

The dragonet tucked herself into a tighter ball. "Don't hurt me," she quietly begged.

Bash frowned, which looked kind of cute on his little face. "I not gonna hurt ya,"

"Yes you are. Everything hurts in this place. I hurt. The needles hurt. The water hurts. The food hurts. My wings hurt when they gave them to me. Sleeping hurts. You'll hurt," the older dragonet whined.

Bash frowned, trying to make sense of what the older dragonet was saying to him, but then he gave up and walked over to the far corner from the weird female dragonet.

Realising he was feeling tired, Bash took a nap.

When the young rock dragonet awoke, he was sore in several places, which was weird, because he was used to sleeping on hard surfaces - his bed back home had been a stone slab with a couple of massive leaves - and he was pretty sure that he had gone to sleep in a comfortable position.

But why had he chosen to go to sleep in a small pool of unfamiliar red liquid? And why did his stomach hurt so much?

Carefully standing up, Bash leant against the wall and craned his neck down to look at his stomach. There was a big cut in it that had been badly sewn up, and the strange red liquid was dripping out of several small gaps in the stitches.

And it hurt a lot.

"That doesn't look good! Do you want me to fix it?" An unfamiliar, but excited voice came from somewhere behind Bash.

Looking around, the Earth dragonet realised he had been moved to a different room, because the green dragonet was gone, replaced by a - well, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It looked like one of the armadillos that lived near his and his mother's cave, and was the size of a fully-grown one of them too - except it was varying shades of blue, had really tiny stumpy legs that didn't even seem to have elbows or knees, joints he thought his mother had called them. There were three weird bean-like bits on the thing's head, and, strangest of all, its face took up the entire front of its entire body. And it was bouncing around like an overenthusiastic puppy.

Suddenly, a massive tongue shot out of it's twenty-cm mouth, covered in slobber, and sprayed the saliva all over Bash's wound. Bash winced as it stung, but looked down in surprise as the pain diminished, the stitches fell out and the wound closed itself up in a matter of seconds.

"I'm Ballas! Who are you?" the armadillo-beast panted, as enthusiastically as before.

"I-I Bash," Bash stuttered in shock.

"Great, Iebash! Wanna play fetch?" Ballas barked excitedly.

"Not Iebash. Bash," Bash told the monster.

"Bash! Even better! So ya wanna play fetch?" Nothing seemed to get the little beast down, as it stretched out it's tongue and used it to grab hold of a rubber chew toy. Ballas yanked it back towards him and offered the disgusting, drool-covered white rubber bone to the brown-scaled rock dragonet.

"How you heal my tummy?" Bash asked Ballas.

"Oh, that. When Jecovo transformed me, he gave my spit amazing healing properties! I hate him so much because he destroyed my life isn't it awesome! So come on, play fetch!"

Bash twisted his body and slammed his tail into the chew toy and Ballas' tongue.  
The toy soared over to the other end of the room. If the impact had hurt Ballas at all, he didn't show it and raced over to retrieve the bone as fast as his stumpy little legs would carry him.

Bash smiled. There was something that he liked about that . . . . weird . . . . . little . . . . . . thing.

That was pretty much how the two of them spent the next couple of hours. Playing fetch with the disgusting chew toy. Ballas never seemed to tire of the game, and Bash kept playing because it was impossible not to like the cute little beast. His boundless excitement and enthusiasm was, well, if not infectious, endearing.

But like all good things, it had to eventually come to an end. And this end appeared when Fletcher kicked open a nearly invisible door in the wall and proclaimed "I need the wingless dragon,"

Ballas growled. "You are not going to take my friend," he retorted.

The Drow kicked the mutant armadillo to the side and advanced on the dragonet. Ballas moaned and fell to the ground on his flank, unconscious.

Fletcher grasped Bash around the chest and, seeing as he seemed to have forgotten the burlap sack, carried him out like that.

Bash struggled for a bit, but gave up when he ran out of energy. Fletcher chuckled. "Good. It's always so much easier when the test subject is tired," So he could only watch as Fletcher carried him through several corridors with multiple doors identical to the one he had come out of leading off them. More than once Bash heard bestial squeals, wails of pain or even the occasional conversation coming from the doors. The wails of pain were the most often noises.

But eventually they left the corridors and entered another area of the place. And this one was even scarier. Rows and rows of needles filled with liquids of all different colours, what looked like unborn babies in giant test tubes, organs suspended in not quite so big but still large test tubes, and on a couple of occasions, a living being that usually looked like no species Bash had ever heard of strapped onto an operating table with all kinds of translucent tubes and wires and other stuff attached to their bodies. All of this assaulted Bash's senses and young mind, and caused him to burst into tears yet again.

Finally, Fletcher arrived at wherever it was he was taking the young dragonet. Sure enough, it was a cavity with a small one of the operating tables Bash had seen on the way in. Sadistically smiling, Fletcher strapped Bash down to the table with the straps built into it, and gave a mock salute as he turned to leave. "Jecovo will be with you soon enough," he smirked, before disappearing beyond the rim of the cavity in the wall that held the table.

**Okay, I'm pretty sure I got this one up to average length.**

**"Don't bet on it, Short Round,"**

**You are aware that my physiologist says I'm one of the tallest people in the world, right? Besides, you didn't even realise that Ballas is actually Wrecking Ball until I told you.**

**{A meow is heard, a small white cat enters}**

**Oh hello puss, how did you get into Shamar?**

**{Technow picks up the cat, Riley stares in shock}**

**"You know that cat?"**

**I will have you know that this is my pet cat, Snowstorm. How did you get to Shamar, puss?**

**"You're talking to a cat,"**

**So? Criticising me is not going to get you a raise, Riles.**

**"That's Zap's nickname for me. You do not get to use it,"**

**'Everyone uses it, Riles,'**

**I never thought I would say this, but thank you for interrupting a private conversation, Gaiphe! Peace!**


	4. Jecovo's Insanity

Ch. 4: Jecovo's Insanity

Bash had no idea how long he waited for Jecovo to arrive. But when he did, it was nothing like how most would expect.

A tall, yet lanky and scruffy elf dressed in a labcoat and carrying a massive pile of papers and cases and such rushed into Bash's restricted line of vision. The papers wobbled as if they were in a cartoon before the scientist set them down. The strangest thing was, he didn't look at all like the scary, malevolent face that had terrified the young dragonet so much on the screen. And he didn't look like he was wearing a shirt beneath his labcoat, and he was barefoot, so most would hope that he was wearing pants beneath the long, wavy coat-tails of his labcoat.

Dragons were naturally naked by nature, so Bash didn't even know what pants were.

"Are you Jehovah?" Bash asked, curious. He had misheard Jecovo's name, and, at two, his pronunciation wasn't great.

"No, as a matter of fact people have called me the opposite of Jehovah. Of course, after they did so, the vast majority never said anything beyond assorted animalistic calls again. Though some did retain the capacity for sentient speech, and I have yet to figure out why. Though many were hybrids between multiple sentient-speech-capable species, the Fabbories inlaced with griffin DNA made a very interesting combination, and one of my most successful yet. I, young dragon, am Alexander Burros Muertos Jecovo," Jecovo boldly pronounced, with a grand flourish of his right arm.

{AN Note: Run his full name through Google Translate; Spanish to English}

"That's a long name," Bash frowned.

"Indeed it is. The middle name comes from a far-off land, known as Spain. But that is not important. Tell me, young dragonet, why is it that you do not have wings?"

"I don't know, but mummy says that it doesn't matter if you have wings or not, as long as you're a good person," Bash explained.

"Yes, yes, doting mother talk, say anything to keep their kids happy, no matter how big a lie, blah blah blah, but do you know if there's a scientific reason for it? Or if it's just a random genetic mutation?" Jecovo pressed.

"Scienti - I not can say word," Bash frowned, his eyes wobbling.

"Should have known better than to expect competency from a wingless two-year-old dragonet," Jecovo muttered to himself in frustration. "Let's get started on the testing, then, shall we?"

Jecovo moved over to a control panel, which's contents were hidden from Bash's view. As he pushed a button, a long, telescope-like arm extended down and a needle at the tip of the arm pushed its way through Bash's scaly brown flesh and into his bloodstream. Bash started crying.

"Interesting. This is a very strange occurrence. Your genetic code describes that you were supposed to have wings, but don't," Jecovo frowned, and rotated a dial. The machinery holding Bash in place moved so that Bash was now pressed on the operating table on his chest, and his back was in the open air. Jecovo moved over and, grabbing a magnifying glass from a nearby table, carefully inspected Bash's strong back, where the tiniest of spiky ridges was starting to protrude from his spine.

"No obvious signs of surgery, they're just . . . . . not there. How strange," Jecovo sucked in air through his teeth. "How very strange indeed. Perhaps a cloning experiment might be in order, yes, that should reap very interesting rewards," He typed a couple of commands in, and Bash felt a jab of pain as the pointed nozzle that was still embedded in his shoulder sucked another pint of blood from his small, dragonet body.

Jecovo grabbed a bendy plastic tube that had been lying on the floor and plugged it into a socket in the side of the machine. The pint of blood that had been in Bash's veins less than a minute ago slid down it to an unknown destination.

"Well, I have a DNA sample, and a clone in the works. Normally this would be the part where I instil in you the DNA from another being, but your mismatched DNA is going to be interesting to watch develop on its own," Jecovo moved over to an intercom, and, in a voice very unlike the one he had been speaking in previously, shouted "Fletcher! Get your sorry arse up here right now and take this specimen back to its holding pen, with the magical mutant test subject. Unless you want your sorry arse, to become a furry arse. NOW!" He hollered the last word, then made a dash for the door he had entered from. "Can't let them see me, I always use a digitally modified head on my video chats with them, and put on a voice so that they think I'm really scary. It's genius! Like everything else I do, of course," he explained to Bash, who had spent much of the testing phase in a shocked silence.

A hastily slammed door and some dropped papers were the only evidence Jecovo had ever been in the room as Fletcher entered, actually looking scared. "Sir? Was - was that fast enough for you, sir?" the Drow asked, his voice betraying his fear.

Jecovo's false voice echoed throughout the room from unseen speakers. "Why are you standing around, you sorry excuse for an elf? Get moving, or when I'm done with you, you'll be moving as fast as that feline Mabu I infused with hummingbird DNA. And if that happens, you should pray that you survive longer than she did,"

Fletcher gulped. He remembered the result of that combination. A feline Mabu with green fur, a feathery crest, no teeth and the ability to move as quickly as sound. The problem with Jecovo's 'experiments' was that the mutations caused by the genetic splicing were usually unstable, resulting in deformities such as lungs that couldn't take in enough oxygen, hearts that didn't beat fast enough to sustain the blood-flow, stomachs that weren't connected to the intestines, and in a couple of particularly memorable cases when Jecovo had infused female Fabbories with snake DNA, an anus that wasn't connected to the rest of the body's systems. No matter what happened, it usually resulted in their deaths. The problem with this particular hybrid was actually that its heart beat too fast, which in turn resulted in the blood moving too quickly. It would have been survivable, a near permanent state of nausea but survivable, except that a tiny pinprick from a needle and her life-blood was gushing out of her like a fountain. The poor thing had bled to death in a matter of minutes.

But the amount of artificial hybrids that actually survived, and could have gone on to lead a decent life if not for being imprisoned in Jecovo's facilities was impressive. A large amount of the survivors had Fabbory DNA in the mix. There seemed to be something resilient about their DNA that allowed them to restore their bodily systems no matter what mutations were inflicted on them. Jecovo couldn't figure it out, but he had found that if he mixed Fabbory DNA in with any other combination, they usually survived just fine.

Fletcher roughly shoved Bash back into his holding pen with Ballas. The rock dragonet landed painfully on the exposed flesh of his stomach and squealed in agony. "Shut up, you little bugger," Fletcher growled at him, the feline Mabu/hummingbird still on his mind.

The next thing he knew, he was being slapped in the face with Ballas' elastic tongue. "Mutants," he growled, stepping out and slamming the door behind him. "Henchmen," Ballas frowned at the closed door.

"You just met Jecovo for the first time, didn't you?" The mutant grub asked Bash, a tender understanding and compassion beyond his young years creasing his face. Bash dumbly nodded. "He said something about arty-fiscal hybrids. What does that mean?"

Ballas frowned, not sure how to explain it. "Well, you know about, like, hybrids between dragons and, say, griffins, or unicorns, or something like that?" Bash nodded, not sure where Ballas was going with this. "Well, what Jecovo is doing, is, for example, taking dragons that were born pure dragon, and turning them into dragon-griffin hybrids. For example. But he's doing that sort of thing with every creature in Skylands," Ballas explained.

Ballas was actually quite intelligent, just not intelligent as measured by elves and Mabu, and all of the other sentient species in Skylands. He was smart, but he was also somewhat like a dog, and the mental conflict tore his mind apart, so sometimes he acted intelligently, and sometimes like a dog. Ballas really hoped he could get it sorted out someday, it was somewhat annoying to be smart one minute and want to chase an airship for no reason the next.

"So, were you like that?" Bash asked, with a typical toddler abruptness.

"No. I don't know what I am. One of Jecovo's goons found me one day, brought me back here, and I've been here ever since. From what I picked up from them, I'm unique, nobody's ever seen anything like me and so they want to study me," Ballas sighed. "They say I don't even have DNA,"

"Whass DNA?" Bash asked.

**'I really hope I never run into Alexander Buerros Muertos Jecovo. I shudder to think what he could do with my DNA. What he did with Flashwing's is bad enough.**

**Heh heh heh.**

**'What's so funny, Techie? And shouldn't you be getting your little girlfriend to be censoring Flashwing's name?'**

**Don't call me that. Riley is not my girlfriend. I can't date her unless I somehow get turned into a dragon, or a griffin, or something dragonoid. And do you know what Jecovo's full name is in English? Or Arstic, whatever.**

**'No. Why? Is it funny?'**

**Oh, heck yeah, it is. And because I'm a good friend, I'll let you get the sense of achievement when you find out for yourself.**

**'Wait, since when have we been friends?'**

**Well, you always come down to do the Author's Note with me.**

**'Okay, well, since we're such good friends, allow me to help you with your girl problems,'**

**{Gaiphe clicks her beak, Technow transforms into a white-furred griffin with blue-tinted feathers}**

**Okay, now I see where you were going with this.**

**'You're welcome, girlfriend,'**

**Firstly, I'm male, and secondly, we are in the middle of an Author's Note! This is not the time for this!**

**'Check again,'**

**{Technow checks her underbelly}**

**YOU CHANGED MY GENDER?! How is this supposed to help me with my girl troubles?**

**'If you're one of us, you'll understand us better,'**

**And how am I supposed to date girls if I AM a girl?**

**'Your problem, not mine,'**

**Why, you -**

**{Camera cuts to Riley}**

**"I'm sure we would all love to watch this for hours more, but Author's Notes can only be so long. So, peace!"**


	5. Breaking In, Broken Out

Ch. 5: Breaking In, Broken Out

So the next couple of weeks progressed. Bash was daily taken by Fletcher to Jecovo's operating table, and the hilariously eccentric scientist performed all kinds of experiments on him. Then, when he returned to the cell, Ballas would heal his injuries with his magical saliva. But something changed two weeks after Bash was captured.

The other dragonet, the one Bash had met on his first day, was thrown into the same cell as the two of them. "Jecovo needs the room for a special experiment of his, so you go in here with these two. You met one of these two before, so you should feel right at home," Fletcher growled, throwing the winged Life dragonet at Ballas. The elf slammed the door.

Ballas extended his tongue and started licking the dragonet's injuries. "There, there, it's alright. What's your name?" he asked, gagging slightly on his tongue.

"I-I-I-I-Insidae," the dragonet stammered. "Don't touch me. You'll hurt me. Everything hurts me. The food hurts. The water hurts. Jecovo hurts. Fletcher hurts. My wings hurt when Jecovo grew them, but they stopped hurting. Everything is pain," Insidae panicked, clawing her way away from Ballas. Then she realised her injuries were gone. "It stopped hurting," she gasped.

"Her wings hurt when she grew them?" Bash questioned. "You no can grow wings," he frowned.

Then Fletcher threw the door open again. "Time for your testing, Spiky. You're lucky, Jecovo has something special planned for today," He grabbed the dragonet like a badly behaved kitten. And just before he closed the door, Ballas heard him growl "Today's the day you get your wings,"

Once more the straps went on, once more Jecovo barked through the loudspeakers "Get the heck out of my laboratory RIGHT NOW, or the specimen won't be the only thing on the operating table," Panicking, Fletcher ran straight out of the room. And once more, Jecovo rushed in, spilling papers all over the floor. But today, something seemed more menacing than usual about the insane scientist, but he also seemed more panicked, like he was in a hurry.

Pulling a lever, Jecovo flipped Bash onto his back. Typing in some commands, a long mechanical arm with a massive syringe filled with a disgusting-looking pink liquid extended and aimed itself at Bash's backside. Slowly, it moved forwards.

"What is up with the slowness of this thing? Won't it go any faster?" Jecovo ranted, pushing the button repeatedly. It didn't do a thing.

Then, the wall exploded.

Two hours ago . . . . . .

"Boomer! Are the explosives ready?" Chop Chop barked at the troll. Here, Boomer was younger, and still had his original hands and feet. Mentally, though, he was the same. "Ha! You want to know if the explosives are ready? No, Mr. Bony McArmourPants, they are not ready! And I will tell you when they are ready!"

Twenty minutes ago . . . . . .

"Now they are ready!" Boomer yelled.

"Good. Light em' up, Boomer!" Wham-Shell yelled.

"Ignitor! Sonic Boom! Drill Sergeant! Be prepared to attack the second that Boomer blows the wall!" Chop Chop ordered.

Boomer, with the light of insanity gleaming in his eyes, shouted "BOOM-BOOM!" and pushed the handle down.

There was a massive flash of light, a ringing boom of sound, and the wall simply disintegrated. Ignitor and Drill Sergeant rushed in hard and fast, Sonic Boom threw up her hatchlings and followed.

All three Skylanders were shocked to find the corridor they had blown their way into to be completely deserted of opposition, but had . Chop Chop followed. "Ignitor! Drill Sergeant! Boomer! The four of us will proceed into the fortification. And Boomer, try to hold off on the dynamite. Sonic Boom! You and your hatchlings open all of these cells," the robotic skeleton ordered.

Drill Sergeant, as per orders, charged ahead.

The four Skylanders finally moved into an open space with a bandstand on one wall. The bandstand had an enclosed box with one-way glass too. And while there was nobody in the open section of the bandstand, Chop Chop could see a silhouette in the hidden section.

"Skylanders? Ah, I suppose I should have expected it sooner or later. But it did take you Skylosers twenty years to find me. At first, I didn't think I could keep it up for long, but after so many years of completing my experiments unscathed, I was starting to wonder. And since I am about to begin another experiment, I can only stay so long. But I will tell you this. You are standing in an arena I constructed so that I could see how the results of my experiments performed in a combat situation. Normally I pit them against each other, but today, my best fighter has the honour of battling you. I wonder what data this will provide," Jecovo's false, menacing, evil voice boomed from hidden speakers.

A barred door slid down over the entrance they had come through. A typical battle-gate appeared over an entrance set into the bandstand just beneath the blacked-out cubicle. And a massive, dragon-like monster dropped from the ceiling.

Hydras existed in Skylands, but they were very rare. They were not hunted, but rather due to difficulties in their bodily structures, it was difficult for them to reproduce. But apparently Jecovo had gotten his hands on one, because the beast the four Skylanders now saw had five dragon-like heads on long, serpentine necks, and five tails to match. It's scales were a dark beige-ish colour. But regular hydras had no wings, and no breath attacks.

This one did.

The beast actually looked like a very rare dragon-hydra hybrid. Such combinations were almost as powerful and rare as phoenix-dragon hybrids. But there was something seriously wrong about it, something that made it seem unnatural.

Fire gushed from one of the beast's mouths at Ignitor. The fire knight just laughed and let the fire roll over him. "Avast! I am made of fire, monstrous beast! I canst not be harmed by the flames!"

"Quit your Dark Ages babble and get in the game, hot stuff!" Boomer shouted, lobbing dynamite stick after dynamite stick at the hydra.

"Oh, thou didst not just call me hot stuff!" Ignitor shouted, taking his anger out on the mutant hydra.

There was a common rumour that if a hydra's head was cut off, two more would grow back in its place. Ignitor's enchanted flaming blade cut straight through the base of the neck on the far right. The dismembered bodily part lifelessly fell to the ground.

The rumour was untrue. The beast was down to four heads.

Then three as the head just to the left of the central one accidentally swallowed some of Boomer's dynamite, and self-combusted.

"Wait," Chop Chop muttered. "Boomer! Can you do that again?" he shouted.

"Sure as you're a total by-the-book goody-two-shoes, Armour McBonyPants!" Boomer yelled back at him. The troll noticed Ignitor's surprised stare. "What? I like mixing it up," he shouted.

"Drill Sergeant! See if you can use one of those special bladed drills to cut a hole in that thing! Boomer, once he's done that, throw some dynamite into it's gut. We'll blow it up from the inside out," Chop Chop ordered.

Drill Sergeant loaded a special, yellow drill covered in curved, razor-sharp blades into his right holster. Taking careful aim, the robot fired it right into the monster's flank. The drill bored it's way straight into the beast's stomach, and it cried out in pain. Boomer rapidly threw several sticks of TNT into the gap, straight into the monstrosity's stomach.

The reaction was explosive and covered the entire room and everything in it with sick, disgusting guts. "Avast! What is this foul goop?!" Ignitor raved.

"Well, there goes that plan. I have something to attend to, so I should really be going," Jecovo's synthesised false voice boomed through the speakers, and his form moved in the box. Drill Sergeant quickly put a stop to that, launching an explosive drill at the cubicle. It detonated, spreading shrapnel all over the place.

Chop Chop cautiously approached Jecovo's still, motionless form.

With a curious hint of hilarity, the Arkeyan tripped over a piece of debris on the stand, collapsing flat on his face. Ignitor and Boomer guffawed, Drill Sergeant was emotionless, like the robot he was.

Picking himself up, Chop Chop carefully prodded Jecovo's motionless form, then scanned it. "A robot," he assessed. "He is a robot, comrades! Our search continues!"

The battle-gate unbarred itself, but Chop Chop noticed another passage in the remains of the private box. "This way, fellow Skylanders!" he shouted.

Ignitor and Boomer followed, but Drill Sergeant could not. His wheels simply were not designed to mount stairs. "Drill Sergeant! Wait for Sonic Boom to arrive, then go the other way with her!" Chop Chop ordered. "This is what happens when Eon sends five Skylanders to penetrate an entire fortress," he muttered darkly to himself.

The three Skylanders proceeded along the corridor. It seemed to go on for ever, coiling upwards in tight spirals. This had to be the inside of a tower they had seen from the outside. By Chop Chop's internal clock, they had been moving along it for eight minutes when they finally reached the top - a locked, barred and reinforced door.

"Boomer?" The insane troll looked over at Chop Chop in hope and excitement. "Blow it up,"

In seconds, the door was covered in explosives. "Wait, if you can do that that fast, why did you take three hours to do it last time?" Ignitor questioned his teammate.

"To annoy Mr. Pantsy McArmourBones," Boomer said slowly, like he was talking to a young child.

Chop Chop and Ignitor looked at each other in confusion. "That was the worst one yet," Ignitor said. "They were all the worst," Chop Chop replied. Ignitor lit the fuse of the T.N.T. at a distance with his sword.

The wall exploded.

**Cliffhanger! You gotta love them, right?**

**"True enough,"**

**"Wait, who's this?"**

**Riley, meet Julie. Wait, what are you even doing here?**

**"Trying to beat the heat. Summer heatwave, ring a bell?"**

**We're in the Shamar editing studios, not my home. There's no heatwave here, remember?**

**"Which is why I'm here, not your home. Capiche?"**

**Oh, now I get it. And next chapter should be the last one where Bash is a baby. From there on out, he's a teenager, and fully fledged Skylander. Hope you liked it! Peace!**


End file.
